


Rectitude

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship - Sam/Dean, First Time, spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-27
Updated: 2010-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 03:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all Crowley's fault anyway (but really, Dean should know better than to drink alcohol when it's given to him by a demon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rectitude

**Title:** Rectitude

 **Author:**  [](http://placeofinsanity.livejournal.com/profile)[ **placeofinsanity**](http://placeofinsanity.livejournal.com/)   
 **Rating:** FRAO, NC-17 pr0nz  
 **Word Count:** ~ 3,400  
 **Pairing** : established Dean/Sam, Sam/Castiel/Dean  
 **Beta:** Thank you [](http://thebunnybag.livejournal.com/profile)[ **thebunnybag**](http://thebunnybag.livejournal.com/)  for the quick read through!

**

Rectitude

**

It was all Crowley’s fault anyway.

He was the asshole who left them the alcohol. Really good alcohol. Dean couldn’t pass up Johnny Walker Gold, it was like...a crime. Since Castiel had never had it, which was another crime in and of itself, he had to offer some to Cas.

Besides, he and Sam hadn’t sat down and simply drank together in way too long. He should have figured something was wrong with it. A demon had given it to them after all. It’d have been different if he’d stayed to drink with them, but with a lascivious wink, he’d half turned and vanished.

Cas had told him the demon was truly gone, but Dean had his doubts. Which was why, when shit started happening that didn’t usually happen during drinking parties, he realized he should have known better.

People weren’t supposed to randomly blurt out and tell the whole room exactly what they were thinking, regardless of whether they were asked or not. Or tell the truth to questions they didn’t want to answer. (Though Sam did tend to word vomit after too much vodka, something else that got spilled early on in the night.)

“I don’t understand the problem, Dean,” Castiel said blankly, which must be true, because none of them could seem to lie.

“People don’t always want everyone to know what they’re thinking,” Sam offered from behind the sanctuary of his laptop.

“They don’t?” Cas asked.

“ _No_ ,” the brothers chorused with varying degrees of emphasis.

Cas tilted his head to one side, as he puzzled out their latest screw up. “Do you have something to hide, Dean?” he asked, and Sam was certain that there was a mischievous glint in the Angel’s eye.

“Yes,” Dean ground out. He glared daggers at Sam who suddenly realized how bad this could be.

Cas abruptly switched targets. “Sam,” he announced, ignoring Dean’s sudden sigh of relief. “Why is this a bad thing?”

“Because it means that Dean and I are completely boned.” Even as he said it, he was wincing.

The head tilt switched sides and Cas eyed them both. “You do not need to look at me as though I will forcible steal your secrets from you,” he commented. “I am content to drink in silence.” As though to punctuate his statement, Cas had another shot.

They drank quietly for about five minutes before Dean cracked. He’d never been able to abide silence well. “I guess we could make the most of it,” he said, attempting to mollify Cas.

The bottom of Sam’s stomach hallowed out. “Like how?” he asked, closing the lap top.

“Truth or Shot,” Dean suggested immediately, which told Sam that he’d been thinking about it probably the moment they’d realized the alcohol was spelled.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel interjected. “Is this a drinking game?”

Sam nodded. “Someone asks another person a question. They can either choose to answer or choose to take a shot.”

Cas digested this slowly, staring at the bottle of spelled alcohol. “I fear I will have the advantage.”

“Does the truthgeas not work on you?” Sam asked.

The Angel tilted his head to one side. “I believe so. I speak nothing but truth as it is, so perhaps it is not so bad for me.”

“Guess you’re first then,” Dean said with a grin. He took another sip of his shot. “What’s the one thing you’re looking forward to feeling - as a human.”

Cas rolled an empty shot glass across the table, halting it before it fell. “Love,” he said quietly. “When my Father created Angels, it was with the sole purpose of loving unconditionally. First Him, then humans. Rarely are we loved back. Lucifer fell for such feeling,” he murmured. “Now I am feeling them freely and without consequence.”

“Cas,” breathed Sam and the Angel seemed to blink and pull himself out of it.

“I believe it is my turn to ask a question, yes?” Sam nodded reflexively. “Then, Sam. Have you ever considered returning to your education, if we survive?”

It was Sam’s turn to blink. “Uh wow. Yeah, I guess, I’ve thought about it.” Dean grunted, slamming back the rest of his shot. “But not lately. And not seriously.” He turned imploring eyes to Dean. “Why didn’t you ever call me, when I was at Standford?”

Very deliberately, his brother reached out and took his shot. Hurt registered slowly and Sam looked away. “Cas,” Dean said instead, “Why did you choose this?”

Cas bit his lip before answering. “For Sam.”

Both brothers jerked, looking shocked. “For me?”

But Cas shook his head. “One question per round. It is my turn to ask.” His eyes gleamed with momentary amusement again and Sam got the feeling that he was going to have the upper hand for the _entirety_ of the game. “Sam. Was Jessica your true love?”

Sam breathed out slowly through his nose. “No,” he answered after a moment, fighting the geas the whole time. “No, she wasn’t.” He turned his gaze to Dean. “In the last five years, what was your favorite hunt?” It seemed like a safe bet.

Pressing his lips to his forefinger in thought, Dean mulled it over. “The first white lady,” he answered. “Our first hunt, just the two of us.” Sam looked down with a small smile. “Cas, why Sam?”

“He faced, his facing, insurmountable odds. The waning love of his brother, Angels on his every step, the entire Universe believes whole-heartedly that he will eventually say yes. And still...he refuses.” Sam could feel the blush, it was starting in his ears, and crawling down his face. “Sam.”

“Yeah, Cas?” he mumbled, busying himself with pouring another shot. Or twelve.

“Why does everyone believe that you and Dean are lovers rather than brothers?” Cas was honestly curious and Sam’s blush intensified.

And he shouldn’t have had that last shot because words were actually spilling out. “Because it’s true.”

Both brothers paled, and Dean froze. Cas’ lips parted in shock, the shot glass he was holding crashed to the ground. “Dean?” he asked, eyes wide, desperate. “How long?”

“About a year, recently. On and off since Sam was sixteen,” Dean answered, looking past Castiel to Sam. “It’s not something we talk about.”

His hands were shaking when he lifted them off the table. “And you just...weren’t going to tell me?” Cas asked, wounded, betrayal coursing through him. “Was I not important enough to know?”

“What, Cas, no...” Dean said. “It’s just...ours.”

“Show me,” Cas begged. “Let me see it. So rarely do Angels see true love.” It was the alcohol, or the truthgeas or shock, but Cas couldn’t stop the flow of words. “Please.”

Dean looked up at Sam who lifted one shoulder in acquiescence. He moved faster than either of them suspected. Dean slid one hand down Sam’s jaw, cupping his face and cradling the back of his neck with the other hand. Sam moved closer, on the edge of his seat, puling Dean towards him by his shirt. Dean pressed their foreheads together, a tender pressure that he’d started doing after his Deal in Hell. “Dean,” Sam murmured.

His brothers lips curled up in a smile. “Sam.” He said nothing else, just laid his lips over Sam’s, swiping his tongue over his lower lip. They kissed languidly, tongues tangling, mouths slanted and sliding together. Kissing, they excelled at. It was something they both enjoyed and it usually led to Dean bending Sam over the nearest object to fuck him.

Sam finally pulled away, and for a second, Dean chased his mouth. “Dean,” Sam said, amused, turning his head to look at Castiel.

The Angel looked gobsmacked, his own lips parted in shock, his pupils were blown. He looked...aroused.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. “Cas,” Sam asked gently. “Do you want to kiss one of us?”

“Yes,” Cas whispered.

“Which one of us?” Dean asked, watching the way Cas’ eyes zoomed in on Sam’s kiss swollen lips.

“Sam,” the Angel answered, the word sounding as though it was wrenched from him. It was the truthgeas, and Cas seemed to realize it. “I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly. “If it weren’t for the spell, I never would have said anything.”

He turned his wounded, too blue, aroused eyes on Sam. There was nothing else sam could do except kiss the expression from his face. Vaguely he could hear Dean’s sharp inhale but then Cas’ mouth opened under his.

He tasted like alcohol, but under that was a clean taste, clear, like crisp fresh water. Sam pulled him closer, hooking his fingers in the trench coat Cas perpetually wore. Cas made a noise like he was dying, pleading against Sam’s lips. Their mouths separated with wet kissing sounds, and Cas finally fingered out what to do with his hands.

They came up of their own volition and buried into Sam’s hair, tugging him ever closer. Sam’s tongue twined around to give Sam more room. He moaned, low and ragged in the back of his throat, as Sam sucked on his tongue.

Which was about the time that Dean cleared his throat with a grimace. Sam jerked away and Castiel whimpered at the loss of contact. Sam’s eyes shot to Dean’s and was surprised to see the jealousy burning in his brothers green eyes. Sam’s mouth went dry and he swallowed hard. “Dean,” he rasped out.

Dean’s hands shot out and buried itself in the front of Sam’s shirt. He dragged his brother forward to plant a bruising, possessive kiss on Sam’s mouth. He pried Sam’s lips open with his tongue, lashing it against his brothers. Sam gasped and sucked on Dean’s tongue until Dean jerked forward, canting up his hips, trying to pull Sam into his lap.

Cas made another noise, and Sam pulled away to look him. His lips were parted, jaw slack, cheeks flushed. He was the very picture of lust. Dean still had his fist in Sam’s shirt. “Are we doing this, Sam?” he growled, low in his throat, gravelly with arousal.

Cas whimpered again and Sam swallowed thickly. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah we are.”

Dean stood, and the chair was sitting in tipped back to clatter to the carpet. “Then, Cas.” At the words, Castiel looked up, blue eyes heated. “Get on the bed.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Cas rose to his feet, nerves showing in his eyes and in the tightness of his shoulders. He sat on the bed and watched the brothers for the next cue. “This is how this will work,” Dean growled. “Sam is mine, and you will not touch him. However,” here he smiled, “he and I will touch you.”

Cas’ head tipped back with a moan, and he nodded rapidly. “I agree,” he whispered roughly and Dean pounced.

He pulled the ugly trench coat off Cas’ arms, flinging it into some corner of the room. He went for the next item of clothing: the blue tie. “Leave it on,” Sam growled, tugging on his brothers elbow.

Dean’s eyes darkened and he nodded once, beginning to unbutton the shirt that Cas wore instead. Once he was bared to the room, Dean nudged him back and pinned his arms over his head.

It was purely symbolic, Cas could move him easily but he didn’t, releasing control to him, laying passively under their combined touch. Sam ran one hand down Dean’s spine before tugging at the snap of Cas’ pants. Dean pressed his shoulder against Sam’s in a brief moment of comradery. So Sam laid his lips against Dean’s bicep in a soft kiss. Cas’ eyes zeroed in on it, his lips parted in a silent groan. “I think he likes to watch,” murmured Dean.

Sam peeled back the slacks and started sliding them off Cas’ hips. “I think you’re right,” he responded. “Here, help me get these off.”

Together they slipped the dress pants off and dumped them on the floor. “Lay here,” Dean growled to Castiel, his voice low. “Don’t move.”

Castiel’s indrawn breath was sharp with a high note of sound. “Yes Dean,” he whispered. “I will stay.”

Dean rose off the bed, dragging Sam with him. He pulled his brother into a kiss, tugging at Sam’s shirt. He broke the kiss only to pull off his grey t-shirt. Sam raised his arms and let Dean strip him. For years Sam had let Dean take the reigns in their day to day life. It was easy enough to give him the lead in bed too. Dean manhandled Sam, pushing him down onto his knees. “Sam,” he murmured.

Sam’s lips tilted up in a small smile. “Yeah, Dean.” He reached up and pulled down the zipper of Dean’s jeans. He levered up off his ankles to press an open mouthed kiss to the flat plane of Dean’s belly. He pressed several more chaste kisses over his left hipbone as he stripped Dean of his pants and boxers. Once Dean was naked, he scraped his teeth into the hollows he revealed.

“Fuck,” Dean grunted. “Sam, that’s not fair.” Sam grinned when he felt his brother knot his hand into his hair. So of course, he did it again. He bit and nibbled at the sharp edge of Dean’s hipbone, licking over each red mark he left to sooth the skin. Dean was jerking against him, his cock hard and neglected under Sam’s chin.

Sam pressed one last open mouthed kiss there before looking up at Cas. The Angel was wrecked, leaning up on his elbows to see better, tie askew, his pants tented and mussed. He grinned at him before turning attention to Dean again. He licked a long line up one of Dean’s thighs and laughed softly when Dean thwacked the back of his head. “What?” he asked, his lips against his skin.

“Fucking suck me, bitch,” Dean demanded and Sam laughed again.

“Say please, jerk.” Dean’s mouth set and Sam took pity on the desperate looking erection Dean was sporting. He licked around the wet head, tonguing the slit there and wrapped his free hand around the base. Dean moaned and fisted his hands in the bed he was sitting on. He could feel Cas shifting uncomfortably and turned to look at him.

The Angel had sat up, but true to form he hadn’t really moved. He was pressing his palms into his thighs, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Cas,” Dean grunted, unlocking one of his hands from the sheets to reach out to the Angel. Immediately Castiel slid across the bed into Dean’s arms. But, ever obedient, he simply rested against Dean’s side, waiting to be touched, not touching in return.

He tugged Cas’ head down to kiss him while Sam licked and sucked at his dick. Castiel kissed like he had no tomorrow, all hot lips, and wet tongue, and Dean could totally tell that Sam had been the first person the Angel had kissed. Sam had a thing about sucking on his tongue and that was what Cas was doing. Dean pulled away before his brain short circuited, Sam sucking on his dick, and Cas on his mouth - it was too much to handle.

“ _Fuck_ , Sam, come on.” His hips jumped, and Sam stopped teasing. He swallowed down over the rest of Dean’s length. “ _Fuck!_ ” He tugged on his brothers hair and Sam pulled off, moving up his body to kiss Dean instead. “Cas, get Cas.”

He flopped back against the bed as Sam pushed Castiel over, pulling off his boxers. Sam didn’t tease him, he just slipped his lips slowly down the length of Cas’ erection, until his lips rested against his pubic bone.

Cas fucking shouted, his back arching, heels scrambling for purchase on the bed, hands flailing weakly. Dean chuckled and leaned forward to whisper, “go ahead Cas, grab his hair. He likes it,” in his ear.

With another low moan, Castiel buried one hand in Sam’s hair, the other flying up to cover his mouth. Dean tugged it down and he cried out, arching against Sam’s mouth. “Don’t finish him off,” Dean instructed of his brother. “I want to fuck him.”

Cas’ head fell back, and he made a strangled noise, tugging on Sam’s hair. He whined low in his throat and before Dean could stop him, before he could stop himself, Castiel had slid one hand under Sam’s chin and yanked him up and sealed their lips together, licking the taste of himself out of Sam’s mouth.

Dean snarled something and pushed Cas away, pinning him to the bed with his knees. “I told you, don’t touch!” Sam wavered on his knees, his mouth red and swollen, eyes hot and looking entirely fucked out.

“Dean,” gasped Cas, arching up against him, completely gone. He moved Castiel’s legs up, pushing at one until it reached his chest. “Dean, what are you...” His head dropped off on a long moan when Dean rested his mouth against the hole he found there.

Sam slipped up to rest against Dean’s side, Dean took his wrist. “Sam, don’t let him come.” His brother gave him a measured look but he slid his big hands - _Christ,_ Sam’s hands - up Cas’ thighs, to lock one around the base of Castiel’s hard cock, and the other clenching around his balls.

Once Sam’s hands were settled, Dean went to town. He spread Cas open with his thumbs, tracing his tongue around the rim of ridged flesh. He tuned out the messy, gasping moans that Castiel was emitting, shouldering his other thigh over. Cas’ back arched obscenely, and Dean laid a hot, wet kiss against him.

Castiel was thrusting against Dean’s face, crying out loudly, sobbing out his pleasure, fisting his hands in the sheets. When Dean slid his tongue inside him, the sheets tore and Castiel fucking _screamed_ , sobbing Dean’s name, writhing up into Dean’s mouth. He began fucking his tongue into Cas, and Sam tightened his grip to lick Castiel’s erection.

Together, they double teamed him, messily licking, kissing and nibbling at Castiel’s body. Sam nudged Dean when he felt Cas’ balls tighten up and he clenched them just past the point of pain. Cas arched even more, dick twitching with an orgasm without the relief of coming. “ _Please_ ,” Cas panted.

“Nope,” Dean said, humming it against Cas’ flesh, and the Angel whined, bucking up into the brothers grip.

“Dean, please, pleas-oh do that again,” he begged wantonly, as Dean slid one finger up inside of him, pressing it against his prostate. He licked around the appendage and continued to paint the rough edge of his finger against the button inside of him. He slipped in a second finger, messily stretching him, sliding his tongue in between his knuckles. He glanced up and saw Sam sliding Castiel’s red angry cock down his throat, swallowing thickly around him.

He pulled away from the loose, spit slicked hole and reached for his duffel, rooting around for the lube. There were tear tracks on Castiel’s face, his hair damp with sweat, his hands white knuckled around the blankets. “Sam, move your face, don’t let go,” Dean murmured, slicking himself up.

Sam slid off Castiel’s cock with a wet, obscene pop and Cas cried out, humping his hips up. “No,” he gasped, begging.

Dean didn’t have to re-stretch him, his hole was still loose and slack beneath his fingers. He slid in, bottoming out without much trouble. Cas’ back arched again, sobbing Dean’s name. Sam’s hand almost slipped, but he tightened his grip.

Changing the angle ever-so-slightly, Dean fucked into Castiel’s willing body, wrenching cries from him. Dean had been ignoring his own arousal for long enough that the tight, wet, heat of Cas was enough to throw him over the edge almost pathetically quickly. He came, grunting Sam’s name.

The brother in question, grinned at Dean and rubbed his own raging erection against the bed. “Not yet Sam,” he murmured. “Just wait.”

He pulled out of Cas, with a slick wet sound and flopped back. “Dean?” Sam asked, sounding desperate. “What’s next?”

“Next you come over here and fuck me.” He eyed Cas. “You can let him go.” When Sam’s hands left Castiel’s oversensitive bits, the Angel cried out, arching but not coming. “Cas. Don’t you even _think_ about touching yourself.”

Castiel’s eyes were so dark that Dean couldn’t even tell they were blue anymore. His eyes were glazed, mouth slack but he nodded, tightening his grip on the sheets and blankets.

Dean levered himself up onto his hands and knees, still shaking from his orgasm. “Sam, come on, fuck me dry, I can take it.”

Sam didn’t need telling twice. With a low moan, Dean’s head dropped, arching his spine dramatically and changing the angle. Sam fucked him slowly, getting him used to the size and to keep himself from coming so soon. “Dean,” he murmured, pressing an open mouthed kiss against his shoulders, fingers digging into the sensitive hollows of Dean’s hipbones.

“Fuck me like you mean it Sam,” Dean demanded, and Sam jerked into motion. It took two and a half thrusts but Sam came, shouting Dean’s name into the back of his neck. Dean turned in his arms, pulling Sam into his embrace, kissing him thoroughly.

With a low, rough moan, Cas jerked, threw his head back, and came.

The three of them lay there, panting. Sam was breathing deeply into Dean’s shoulder, and Dean had a large grin on his face. Cas’ breath was hitching each time he breathed in. “All you could have hoped for, Dean?” Sam asked, pressing another kiss to the side of his shoulder.

“Mm,” Dean agreed. “Better than the dreams.”

Cas looked at him, and Sam pulled back, startled.

Fuck.

The truthgeas hadn’t worn off.

The End


End file.
